Journey to Us
by LittleLauren
Summary: After an unexpected tragedy, Ron and Hermione found it difficult to move on. So, Hermione took it into her own hands. This is a story about how a little time away could help remember what is truly important. This is considered a sequel to "Journey to You". You don't necessarily have to read that before this one, but it would definitely help.
1. Unapologetically Selfish

Journey to Us

Chapter 1: Unapologetically Selfish

* * *

"I need to travel-"

"I'll go with you."

"- On my own."

Ron stared at her. "Does this mean…?"

"I don't know what it means." She looked away. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

"I don't understand…" He furrowed his brow, trying not to cry.

When she looked up at him, she also had tears in her eyes. She smiled sadly and caressed his cheek. "Yes, you do," she whispered.

Ron, now letting his tears flow freely, nodded. Because, he really did understand, in the weirdest way.

And now, she's packing and thinking and contemplating. She could just take it back and tell him that she's staying. But what good would that do? They've been in this weird state of limbo for months. They were both afraid to make a move for a while. Hermione was relieved of this job opportunity to go abroad. She could definitely use fresh insight to her latest version of her platform to update the Muggle Restriction Laws. Her boss, who has been supportive of her case for many years, pulled some strings to have her travel the continent for research. This was something she wanted to do for her career, but she took it for selfish reasons. She somehow regretted not travelling alone all those years ago. She thoroughly enjoyed Ron's company at the time, and she couldn't deny that he kept her sane during the trip. But perhaps he held her back. She was meant for so much more. She just didn't know what…

And now, Ron is a mess. He finally became a full-fledged Auror a year ago from that point. He went on his first real mission with Harry and a few others months ago. He didn't do as well as he had hoped, and was really looking forward to seeing Hermione again, talking to her, kissing her, just being with her. That was his only motivation. But when he came home, something had changed. The tragedy of the miscarriage brought out different sides to them that they didn't want to see. It wasn't anger or repulsion… it was as if they woke up from a dream and saw each other in a different light. They still loved each other, but nothing they did to support each other worked.

Ironically, Ron busied himself with work and Hermione distracted herself with recreational reading and picking up random hobbies. Ron realized she was itching to leave when he caught sight of travel books around the house. It was just a matter of time before she broke his heart and left him for bigger and better things.

He didn't feel like fighting her either. They fought so often in the past that any shouting would be futile. And once she had a goal in mind, she pursued it, no matter the obstacles. And that's what he loved about her. There would always be a fire in her that he admired. She was unstoppable, so he didn't stop her.

And that's what Hermione loved about Ron. He'd give his own opinions, but at the end of the day, he supported her decisions. Not all of her choices were great ones, but he was there for her downfalls. He was her reassurance.

She made a choice that day to not ask for his opinion. That was her decision and he supported it.

And goodness knows, he needed time for himself too.

She checked and double checked all of her luggage every day. In all honesty, she was stalling. In the back of her mind, she was hoping Ron would stop her. It wouldn't stop her from leaving, but it would give her hope that he still loved her. It was selfish and irrational, but wasn't that the basis of their relationship?

There was a sense of finality in the air by the end of the week. And the last night they spent together sealed the deal. It was hurried and desperate as they clung to a strand of hope that was wearing thin. They breathed heavily and out of sync, and they refused to look into each other's eyes. Hermione desperately wanted him to look at her, to force her to look at him, to take control over her, to tell her to stay. But no such thing occurred. Before she knew it, they faced opposite sides of their bed, far away from each other.

No words were spoken the next morning. He helped her carry her luggage to the door.

They stood there for what felt like an eternity.

Ron couldn't help himself. He stooped down and held her tight.

Now Hermione's heart was breaking. But she had to see this through.

"Please, be careful," he muffled in her hair. She could tell he was on the brink of crying by the way his voice cracked in her ear.

"I will," she whispered. She felt him kiss the top of her head and her heart dropped to her stomach. Oh, how she was going to miss that little familiar gesture…

Now she couldn't help it. She gave him one last kiss, but not for him. She needed this for her own sanity and he knew it. But he needed this too. He deepened the kiss, relishing in the taste of her, the feel of his hand in her hair, the touch of her own embrace. They both didn't want it to end, but they knew it had to. Hermione was leaving. That was not going to change.

They parted, both looking pained and defeated.

Hermione picked up her luggage, walked out the door, and, without turning back, she was gone.


	2. Eat

A/N: I haven't given up on you, my faithful readers!

* * *

Journey to Us

Chapter 2: Eat

Hermione has been through many big family dinners at the Burrow. She was used to chaos and laughing and light arguments and Quidditch scrimmages. But an authentic Italian family dinner was an event for the ages!

Her first stop on her tour was in Florence, Italy. She had met with the Magical Ambassador of Italy a few days prior. Giuseppe Pisano was a portly older gentleman, who adored his family to pieces. As a matter of fact, he kept a wallet full of pictures of his four daughters and eleven grandchildren. He offered his family's home to Hermione during her stay, to which she gratefully accepted. This way, she could immerse herself in the Italian culture.

"I hope you are okay with a lot of people in one house," he had warned her.

She had smiled politely. "You have no idea."

She spent a lot of time with Giuseppe's Aunt, who preferred to be called Zia Maria. The old lady lived her whole life as a Squib, surrounded by her magical family. They conversed while doing daily chores around the house or cooking for the big family dinners.

"I never once thought of myself as inferior," wheezed the old lady as they folded some laundry on the terrace. "When I was young, and my sister and brothers went off to school, I would stay at home with Mama and Papa."

"Weren't you lonely?" Hermione had asked.

Zia Maria chuckled, her calloused fingers brushing against the white linens expertly. "At first, I was sad to see them leave, but I knew they would be back to tell me all about it."

"How did you manage to do things, relying only on your family?"

"Now that," she replied softly. "Is what is wrong with the Wizarding World today. I did not rely on _la mia famiglia_. I had to be more… _creativo_. And at the end of the day, it was _la mia famiglia_ who learned from me."

Hermione had learned a lot of lessons from wise Zia Maria. Some of them were tough life lessons, like the ones involving family. She would be up all night, writing about Zia Maria's life, but reflecting how it related back to Wizarding society. Things were very different in Italy, Hermione gathered quickly. They accepted her as a person and learned her ways of doing things that they'd usually rely on magic for.

She also learned how to cook from scratch. Zia Maria taught her many tricks, one of which being how to properly cut and roast a pork loin ("The key is to add rosemary and garlic"). All of this food reminded her inexplicably of Ron, how much he'd love to visit this beautiful country. He'd love the time it takes to prepare and cook delectable meals, such as the pork loin Hermione had perfected by the time she was to leave Italy.

Two children ran in front of Hermione as she brought out their latest beautifully conducted meal. One of Giuseppe's daughters yelled at the two children in rapid Italian, to which the children obeyed and sat down in their seats.

Hermione placed the dish in the middle of the table and the whole lot of them clapped.

"I couldn't have done it without Zia Maria," she announced, and the old woman, who was at the head of the table. Zia Maria smiled brightly, causing more wrinkles to form on her face but it somehow made her look younger than Hermione has ever seen her.

She raised a glass of red wine and everyone followed suit. "Grazie, grazie! You are all wonderful! And I adore all of you, _i miei amori. Saluto_!"

" _Saluto!"_ everyone repeated, clinking their glasses together.

Whenever the Pisano family ate and laughed, Hermione would be overwhelmed by the love and support they gave to one another. Zia Maria would pile food onto other people's plates; Giuseppe's daughters would tell stories of their favorite moments from school; the children would be creating a mess and eating fast so they could get back to playing in the alleyway with the neighbors.

Hermione caught sight of Giuseppe and his wife on the other side of the table. They spoke so fast to each other, Hermione thought they were arguing in front of the family. But then they laughed and Giuseppe kissed his wife on the cheek.

It looked so easy… so effortless. She wondered whether she had ever had an easy time with Ron.

Zia Maria knocked her out of her thoughts by plopping some pinto beans onto her plate. " _Tu pensi troppo,"_ she said, patting Hermione's hand gently. This was a saying Zia Maria would say a lot to Hermione during her visit. She looked it up the first day: _You think too much._ " _Mangia_! You will feel better."


	3. Drink

Journey to Us  
Chapter 3: Drink

* * *

This was the test of time for Ron. They've been away from each other before, but this felt like something different; Hermione was on an indefinite trip to God knows where without him. This was a matter of proving that their bond was not broken… that they could trust each other. They both understood this. But that didn't mean Ron was happy about it.

As a matter of fact, Ron was miserable. He frequently accompanied George at the pub and then crashed at his and Angelina's place when he was too drunk to Apparate back home. This was how it was for the first two months of Hermione's journey to self-discovery. Or, at least, that's what George called it. But every time he did, Ron would defend her. It didn't take much for him to do so, whether he started an argument about some mundane annoyance or passive aggressively hitting George where he knew it hurt the most. But, George knew how to get Ron to talk the truth: alcohol.

"What do you think she's up to?"

Ron shrugged.

"You think she's shacking up with some foreign bloke?"

"Don't even joke about that."

"But I know it's on your mind," George snorted.

"It's on everyone's mind!" Ron bashed his drink onto the bar in frustration. "It's on the paper's mind. And it's no one's business."

"Well… Is she?"

Ron shoved George, nearly toppling him off of his stool. "Sod off. And no, she's not."

"Has she written to you?"

"No."

"Ronald, Ronald, Ronald. It all adds up!"

"Shut up!"

"You still here, Weasleys?" Hannah Abbott called, coming back from the back room. "I leave for a day and it's like I never left."

Regardless, Hannah set up another round of drinks for them. George smiled groggily. "You know us all too well, darling." He took his new drink in his hand and held it up for Ron to clink. When his brother didn't reciprocate, George shrugged and clinked his drink anyway. "Cheers!"

Ron watched his brother down his pint of ale in one go. It was rather impressive. Then again, George was an expert drinker at this point. Borderline alcoholic, in Ron's opinion. But he wouldn't say anything. George had a good thing going for him, and if he needed to drink it out a few nights, then so be it. He'll be right there with him. They were currently on a two-day bender. Ron was sure Angelina wouldn't like George being gone for so long, but five shots and three pints in on the first day, Ron could care less.

"I was just about to tell, my dear brother to find a bird and shove it in the missus' face," he slurred, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. "Since she's off with some other bloke."

"She's not, alright!" Ron got off of his chair, almost falling backwards. He caught his balance by reaching for his barstool. He eventually picked it up and swung it lazily in George's direction, but that made him actually fall to the ground, breaking the chair. He felt quite comfortable on the ground, even with George laughing at his pitiful state; however, the gentle hands of Hannah guided him up and back onto the stool.

"Maybe not egg him on, yeah?" Hannah said to George crossly, to which George shrugged again, still chuckling.

"He says 'e hasn't heard from 'er since she left," George caught up the barmaid. "And in my most expert opinion, she's getting on with someone else."

"Wouldn't do that to me," Ron mumbled, holding his head up while he closed his eyes. "We love each other."

Hannah smiled warmly. "That's nice, Ron. And from what I know of her, she's quite the one-track mind. Always had her nose in a book, she did." She didn't seem to care that the pair were exceedingly drunk; she poured George another pint as she prepared one for herself. "Don't listen to the paper, love."

"One of these days, the paper's gonna be right," George declared with his new pint in hand. "You'll see."

Ron lifted his head up with newfound strength. "And your rumour doesn't bother you?" he pestered, poking George's earhole. He knew this annoyed George the most.

As if on cue, George's grin was wiped off his face and replaced with a grumpy scowl.

"What rumour?" Hannah laughed.

"Oh, you don't know?" It was almost comical how quickly the tables have turned. Ron's eyes sparkled, while George backed down another drink. "'Cording to the papers, Angie-lina is only with him 'cause he looks like-"

"Alright, alright!" George interrupted, scratching his five o'clock shadow quite roughly. Ron was playing dirty to prove a point, but it was still a touchy subject. "Touché."

The two men grew silent. Hannah thought she saw them at their worst before, but this was a new low. A real low. The Weasley's were not people to show their deepest emotions so freely. When Hannah saw George pick an old scab on his arm and Ron tap the side of his drink, she smiled warmly. "They're all just rumours, yeah? _Not true_. Remember that Weasley's." She poured them both stronger alcohol to go along with their pints. "Drink. You'll feel better."

* * *

A/N: Fun Fact! The events in this chapter are right before chapter 3 in my Georgealina fic "She Knows Him". Ughh! I love that I can finally connect the dots in my head canon!


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